Stars
by organdamage
Summary: post season six finale, just some thoughts that molded themselves into a story


_"You want justice right? Your wife died, I know what happened. Derek told me the story. Lexie Grey is the one that pulled the plug on your wife, she's my sister. Dr. Webber, he was your wife's doctor. I'm the closest thing he has to a daughter. And the man on the table, I'm his wife. If you wanna hurt them, the way that you hurt, shoot me. I'm your eye for an eye"._

There were stars that night, that night when Gary Clark decided to shoot Derek Shepard. They were bright, gleaming with pride, as if this day was something to be proud of. There were stars that night that Ellis woke up screaming for the first time, not remembering how she got into her own bed. Those same stars cradled her very daughter to sleep, in the wake of what seemed to be the biggest hurdle she'd ever have to face. There were stars the night that claimed one of her best friend's lives, they were big, one even shot across the sky. There were stars when Derek took her home for the first time, they trimmed the window and lit the night, they illuminated his smile, which was already so bright. There were stars in Derek's eyes, the eyes that she looked into every single day when she woke up, the eyes that told her that she was going to be okay, that rocked her when she couldn't sleep, that held her close when grief knocked her to the ground.

The first thing she saw when she began to woke up were stars. They were dull and quiet, rimming all of her thoughts and tainting all of her sight.

"Derek," she croaked softly, her throat itchy and sore, "Derek."

"Shh, shh," a familiar face patted her friend's hair back, "don't try to talk yet, you've got a chest tube in, and by the looks of it, you'll be freed of that misery soon, but until then you can't talk."

Meredith looked up, her eyes watering with the thought of her nightmares becoming reality, the tangibility having increased drastically within the last day.

"He's okay, Derek's okay," Cristina grabbed Meredith's hand, her pulse ribboning beneath the weak grip, "Clark's gone, and Derek's surgery was perfect, if I do say so myself."

Meredith let herself smirk slightly, shifting her weight with a scowl. She didn't like the hospital bed, she felt trapped, and all she wanted more than anything in the entire world was to see her husband. To hold his hand, to let her fingers thread through his hair, to hold him close, to never, ever let him go. She wanted to see him, all of him, to tell him all of the stories she never got to say, to live everything out loud, to never miss another moment, ever. And she wanted him to cradle her, to tell her that it's okay to let down her guard, that he'd have her back, no matter what. But she couldn't let herself indulge in even the thought of it; she had to be the strong one, she was the shoulder to lean on, she had to be there for him.

The chest tube was out and her voice was still gone, she had nothing to say, she didn't know what to do. Cristina continued to stare at her with utter sorrow, her chin resting on her best friend's lap, her best friend who shouldn't even be alive.

"What happened?" Meredith finally broke the silence, asking the questions reserved in the back of her mind that seemed to blot any other thought from being conceived.

"Well you told the shooter to shoot you," Cristina retorted, rather bluntly, then her smile began to soil, "and that's what he did. GSW, through and through, passed your liver by half a millimeter, but somehow, managed little damage; well besides the extensive surgery to save your kidneys and the internal bleeding."

"Oh," Meredith slouched back in her bed, a hand protectively wrapped around her stomach, "it's gone, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Cristina replied, this time her voice soft, "I'm sorry."

"Oh," Meredith let her head rest against the wall, trying to blink back tears, "just like that, huh?"

"I'm so sorry," Cristina grasped her person's hand a little bit harder, finding that it hurt to look at Meredith, she was in unfathomable pain. She didn't know what to say, she'd been here before, she'd been told that her child was gone, but she wasn't feeling this, she wasn't feeling this at all.

"I didn't think I'd be so excited," Meredith stated quietly, the tears adorning her cheeks, "but I was, I was so excited."

"I know," Cristina stood up, taking a thumb to wipe her face clear of reminders of the tragedy, "I know you were."

"Can I see Derek now?" Meredith asked, less enticed by the idea of her husband, more wanting the comfort of his presence, "please."

"Yeah," Cristina agreed, "of course you can."

As she was rolled down the hall in a wheel chair, she couldn't help but notice the nurses and the doctors that stared at her, that took long gapes of her, as if she was supposed to have been dead. Gary Clark took a lot that day, and he took more then his fair share. This wasn't his eye for an eye, this went beyond the call of duty. Meredith tried to remove her hand that laid so naturally across her abdomen, but instead brought the other hand close to her face, and sobbed.

She mustered up the energy to stop crying, she needed Derek to see that she was okay and that he didn't need to be here for her, she was here for him.

"Thank God you're okay," were the first words that rambled out of her mouth, "thank God, thank God, thank God."

She ran her fingers through his hair, and planted a kiss on his cheek, the tears streaming down her own face, and she could do absolutely nothing to stop them.

"You're okay," his eyes opened, the sparkle, although dim, still there, "you're okay."

"I am," she stated back, sitting right next to him, "and you're okay, too."

"One hundred and ten," he stated clearly, looking straight into her, "one hundred and ten, don't you forget it."

"Even if I have to get shot again," she replied, "I'd do it, if it meant saving you."

"The chatty children are forever thankful," he laughed, she tried to push some fake smile, but she couldn't, and she hoped he didn't notice her pause. She didn't think it would strike a nerve like it did, but that hurt more than any bullet.

"I love you," she took his hand, squeezing it with all her might, "so, so much."

**that's all, it was sad, I know, just some thoughts that I wanted to get out there- read and review please**


End file.
